PS I Love You
by secretlife1201
Summary: Just a letter Rachel rights to Finn after his death.


_Hi everyone. I wrote this after seeing the 'Farewell to Finn' tribute last week, as I was crying my eyes out the whole time and couldn't help wondering how upset Rachel must be. They kind of passed her up, probably as a way to show that the greatest sadness is the one we don't see, and I thought I'd write this. This is by no means my best work; it's simply a letter she writes to him, and I have no plans on making this a story or anything. _

_So, enjoy (or don't enjoy). Warning: this is sad and coming from someone who is struggling with the loss of her love. This probably won't make anyone feel better about Cory Monteith's death, but I was moved by Rachel's speech to Mr. Schue at the end of the episode. _

_P.S. Something tells me nobody had to act._

* * *

My Dearest Finn,

You've disappeared.

You're here, but you aren't. I walk down the street, seeing your features on every face, except when I turn to look fully; it isn't you. It's never you. Dr. Fields, the therapist my dads have paid for me to talk to, says I need to 'come to terms' with your death, although I'm not quite sure what that means. I know you're dead. When I gaze hopefully out at the passing crowd, I know it's never going to be you, because you're gone. You're always going to be gone, and it's time I accepted that.

Dr. Fields suggested I write about my feelings since I'm not that good at expressing them in our meetings. Every Monday night, Kurt dresses me up in whatever outfit he has thrown together, Santana combs my hair with a brush I haven't touched in weeks, and they send me out into the hustle and bustle of New York City to spend two hours lying on a couch and listening to some middle-aged, balding man drone on and on about the grief I have for someone he never met. When it's my turn to speak, however, my throat seems to close up. My tongue is unable to form words, and it takes all my strength to stop tears from flooding down my cheeks. I know I can't cry, because if I begin I'm afraid I'll never stop.

Instead of conversing, I stay silent, holding in my pain because it's better than letting it out. Can you imagine that, Finn? For once in my life, I have absolutely nothing to say. If it weren't for the circumstances, the irony would be quite amusing, don't you think?

I don't know what I'm supposed to be feeling, or what everyone expects from me right now. But, Finn, all I know is that I'm angry. God, I'm just so damn angry! I lay in bed at night, tossing and turning from beneath the sheets, cursing you for causing me so much agony. And then, the next morning, when I wake up it takes me a moment to realize you aren't beside me. My hand gropes the cold, empty bed, realization that I will never again see your big brown eyes cuts me open like a knife—a knife that manages to come back every day, not even giving the first wound time to scar.

I've tried to heal the only way I know; by singing. But, just like when I'm at the shrinks, I'm unable to produce lyrics. Nothing comes out. Mr. Schue says that a lot of the other glee kids are having trouble singing as well (apparently Santana of all people broke down crying and ran from the room), but what he doesn't understand is that it's affected me differently than it has to everyone else. I don't think I'm ever going to be the same after this. I'm so sad, but so angry, and at the same time I feel nothing at all. A part of me is missing, and without that other part how am supposed to continue? How does someone move on when the love of their life isn't there? How does someone go on living without their heart?

I have so many questions, so many inquiries without any sort of answer to even sustain my curiosity. There will never be any answers, however, because their simply aren't any. Terrible things happen, and there's nothing anyone can do about them. Dr. Fields claims that my pain will always be there, though eventually becoming lessened by time. Apparently, I'll grow used to it, and that's what scares me the most. Finn, I don't want to grow used to this. I don't ever want to accept this as my reality.

I had a much happier future already mapped out. I had our entire life planned. I was going to graduate from NYADA with high marks, make it big on Broadway for a few years, and then when we were ready I would come back to Lima and you'd be teaching, and I would come through the doors of McKinley and simply say "I'm home"…and then we would just live happily ever after. It was going to be perfect, and so close I could sometimes touch our blissful forthcoming. But none of that's going to happen, now. Everything I intended, everything I ever _wanted_ from life is gone. It's all disappeared, just like you. I'll never have that happy ending—and the worst part is I don't even want it anymore if you're not a part of it.

See, _you_ were my person. My other half, the one who had my heart in the palm of his hand. The person who I was going to marry and have kids with, endlessly sing with, the person I was going to grow old with. Finn, you were the person I was meant to spend eternity with.

Forever Yours,

Rachel

P.S. I Love You.


End file.
